Fallout: The Regulator
by Sonatore
Summary: Sequel to The Wanderer. Tom, now a regulator makes his pilgrimage around the wasteland, fighting with ferocity for vengeance and justice. Soon he sets his sights firmly on the slave traders and begins to wage a one man war on them that they were not prepared for. Alongside this we witness the trials he went through to become the regulator he is now.


**Prologue  
**

It was dry… it was always dry.  
That's the wasteland for you.  
They marched in two rows, twenty girls. Their hair hung in lank clumps, their faces sun burnt and dirt ridden and their expressions… lifeless. Metal contraptions were clasped around their necks, collars, the only form of restraint necessary: if they tried to run, their captors would just flick a switch and the collar would explode, decimating the runner.  
And of course their captors were merciless. There were five of them, one leading, one on either side and two bringing up the rear. They wore goggles or sunglasses to protect their eyes from the blazing sun, and guns at their hips. They fancied themselves to be quite the audacious group of outlaws.  
The man seemed to appear from nowhere approaching them. He wore a long brown duster and a wide brimmed hat pulled down low, obscuring his face. He moved forward cautiously, his hands raised as the slavers raised their guns in alarm, "I mean no harm, only business!"  
The leader glared at him, "Business? You wanna buy one of the girls?"  
The man nodded.  
"It's a thousand caps a piece."  
"Price is no object."  
"What?"  
The man stepped forward, "I can afford it, if only you'll let me choose."  
The man glared a long moment before turning, "Spread out you mongrels, we've got a client! Make yourselves presentable-like!" he laughed at his own ridiculously witty joke.  
The man in the brown coat walked along the lines peering intently at each girl with his dark prying eyes. Finally they came to rest on one in particular. He pulled a photograph from his pocket and glanced at it, then put it away, nodding. He pointed at the dark haired girl with the light blue eyes, "Her."  
She would have whimpered… but she no longer cared what fate she was given.  
"You're a particular one," the leader muttered as the man returned to him.  
"Take her collar off," he said.  
"Fuck off! Show us your caps first," the leader pulled a small control from his pocket, "We don't like tricksters, and if you try 'n trick us, I'll blow her head off."  
Suddenly the man leapt forward, catching the leader's wrist, spun, wrapping his arm around the arm with the remote. There was the sound of something being unsheathed, a squelching noise and then screaming. The man stepped away as the leader screamed at the stump that had once been his arm. The man in the long brown coat, pocketed the detonator and sheathed his machete.  
"REGULATOR!" the leader screeched.  
The other four charged forward. One swung a punch from the regulator's left but, was blocked and counter-struck. An attacker from the right was then kicked in the stomach. A scrawny slaver rushed forward with his pistol outstretched. The regulator caught his arm, twisted and snapped it, then bent the slaver backwards on his knee, wrapped his arm around his neck and twisted, breaking it and dropping the slaver. Another came with a huge machete, swinging it down. The regulator raised his arms and blocked, bringing the attack to a deft halt. After a moment he stepped back, letting the man swing down, kicked him in the head, exposing his naked torso, drew a revolver from his hip and pumped two rounds into him, mowing the man down in one fluid, graceful and calculated movement. He sheathed the revolver in time to catch a punch with his right, pull his knife with his left and stick it through the front of the slaver's throat.  
Three down and two to go.  
They circled him, like wolves, almost snarling. One had a gun and the other a knife.  
The one with the knife leapt forward as his partner screamed an objection. The regulator caught him up and used him as a shield as the last one fired. The bullets thudded into the slaver, but the regulator was protected. The firing ceased and he tossed the body aside, ready to continue battle, only to see something that made him freeze: one of the girls taken hostage.  
"Drop the gun!" the slaver shrieked, "Or I'll fuck her up!"  
The regulator sighed and then placed the revolver on the ground and then stepped back, hands in the air.  
The slaver threw the girl aside, pointing the gun at the regulator, "I'm gonna execute you mother fucker… you're gonna bleed good and proper."  
The slaver didn't see the small polished coin in the regulators hand, not until it was reflecting sunlight directly into his unprotected eyes, after his glasses had been punched off. He yelped and squinted and the regulator was on him, twisting the revolver away and striking the slaver in the throat. He fell to the ground, eyes wide and making a guttural choking sound, gripping his neck. He could not even plead as the regulator drew his revolver and pulled the trigger without hesitation. The bullet went straight through and kicked up dust as it hit the ground. The slaver slumped over.  
The regulator holstered the revolver, fished out the remote and set about unlocking the women's collars. They fell to the dust and as they did the women seemed to each grow a foot taller, the burden of enslavement relieved. They walked a distance from the collars, the remote with them, and then one of the girls used a slaver's gun, firing off a few rounds until one hit home and the collars and remote went up in flames, sending a rumble through the ground.  
The regulator addressed the women, "Head South," he pointed, "And you'll find a safe settlement where you'll be looked after for a time. Except you," he pointed at the blue eyed girl, "You'll come with me please."  
She was hesitant, as were the others to let her, now that they'd finally seen this man's heavily scarred face and neck. He looked monstrous and they'd seen the violence he'd rained down upon those men.  
"Are you really a regulator?" one asked.  
He nodded.  
Not the best argument… but he seemed sure and safe. The girl, Christine Pinkerton her name was, finally moved to stand by his side.  
They started to move East, while the other women went South, as he'd instructed. After moment Christine spoke, "Where are we going?"  
"Home Christine. Somebody in Rivet City wants dearly for you to be alive and well, and as I wanted something from them, I decided to ensure it."  
She didn't know whether that was a callous or just offhand casual remark, so Christine asked, "Who are you?"  
"My name is Tom. Tom Williams."


End file.
